The Triwizard Tournament
by aconsultingwizard
Summary: A collection of stories written for Hogwarts School of Witchraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): The Triwizard Tournament
1. Journey

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter**

**Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): The Triwizard Tournament (Event 1)**

**Prompt: Hogwarts life is probably the most exciting, stressful, but generally the greatest time of a witch or wizards life. For the first task, you are to write about one of the following events that happen at Hogwarts.**

**Travelling via the Hogwarts Express**

**Also written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Muggle Studies**

**Prompt: Write about someone who is travelling**

**Word Count: 1, 250 (ish)**

* * *

><p><em>Hogwarts is a reflection of the wider Wizarding world. Often, what happens in Hogwarts dictates what occurs in the ministry and vice versa. This is a 2nd person narrative, reflecting on the journey that is Hogwarts, through a brief summary of each year's journey on the Hogwarts Express. (The student was in the year below Harry and Co.)<em>

* * *

><p><strong>First Year<strong>

You stare at the pillar trying to make yourself brave enough to run at it. A sudden surge of courage later and you're standing on the platform with your parents, holding tight onto their hands because you know you'll have to let go soon.

You climb aboard the scarlett coloured train and stare out of the windows, trying to see your family through the billowing steam.

It's so exciting, to be finally going to Hogwarts but then the train is moving and everyone is waving goodbye. You feel a little sick as you realise that it will be months before you see your family again.

Then, with butterflies in your stomach you make your way through the rowdy carriage, looking for an empty compartment. Hurrying quickly past the busy compartments as you start to panic. Everyone already seems to know each other, all the compartments are full. Finally you find one with a couple of seats spare and you slide open the door nervously.

The scenery whizzes by outside and inside you strike up a conversation with the others in the compartment. By the time it's time to change into your robes you're feeling more relaxed. You can't wait to see the school, to see if the Hall is as wonderful as everyone says it is, to explore all of the secret passageways and to learn to use your magic.

* * *

><p><strong>Second Year<strong>

This year you can't wait to see your friends again. You quickly hug your family goodbye and then climb eagerly aboard the train. You rush through the carriage until you find the compartment you agreed to meet in. As soon as they arrive you start exchanging stories about the holidays.

When the trolley comes round you buy a pile of sugary treats that your mother would almost certainly disapprove of and share them round. You show off the new spells you learnt over the holidays and give your friends the presents you brought back from your travels.

Then, suddenly, there's something in the window. A black figure, shrouded in a shimmering cloak. The air goes cold and suddenly you feel miserable, as if you can't remember the laughter you shared only moments ago. Then it passes and everyone resumes chattering, frowning as they try and figure out what that thing was. It bothers you, but only for a moment. It's not important right? They wouldn't let anything dangerous on the train.

* * *

><p><strong>Third Year<strong>

You wave goodbye to your parents and tease your brother as he stands on the platform looking longingly at the train. Next year he'll come with you, but for now he's stuck, left behind for another year.

You find your friends quickly and then settle down. As the train leaves the station you open your Charms textbook and begin reading. This year you have resolved to work harder, you can't afford to slack off anymore.

After about half an hour a boy quietly enters the compartment. You've seen him before- he was in your herbology class last year and he has gorgeous hair. Your eyes meet as he closes the door carefully behind himself. As you continue to work you can feel his eyes on you and you flush red.

Whilst you change into your robes your best friend teases you about it and you act annoyed but you're secretly pleased that for once something gossip-worthy has happened to you.

* * *

><p><strong>Fourth Year<strong>

A sense of doom hangs over the train. Your parents seem anxious as they wave goodbye, holding you close for longer than normal, making you promise that you'll look after your brother. You help him on, put his suitcase away and stand awkwardly while he shrugs you off, trying to look cool. You leave him, but you know you'll check on him later.

You can't be too careful these days.

Your parents tried to hide it from you but how could they when every newspaper claimed that Dumbledore is a maniac or was filled with pictures of Cedric Diggory's lifeless eyes?

All through the carriage that's all people can talk about. The names echo through the train like a whispered prayer. _Cedric Diggory. Dumbledore. Harry Potter. You-Know-Who._ It feels colder somehow, and everyone is wondering what will happen, how the school can carry on while the headmaster is accused of madness.

* * *

><p><strong>Fifth Year<strong>

Everybody knows now. He has returned. Everyone saw the pictures of the ministry, the destruction wrought by his Death Eaters. Last year Umbridge made the school hell, who knows what will happen this year?

Your parents hadn't wanted to send you back to school, but you had to be here. What else could you do? You can't trust anyone. The Ministry can't seem to decide what it believes, or what it wants to believe. Sirius Black is guilty, innocent, dead. Dumbledore is mad, or a hero. Harry Potter is a deluded delinquent one minute, and then they're begging him to help them.

You are cynical, disbelieving. Everyone is trying to keep their heads down, to stay out of harms way. You wish there was something you could do to help, something that wouldn't endanger your family.

Last year, there was some excitement, a stirring of something to come. This year everyone is afraid.

* * *

><p><strong>Sixth Year<strong>

They made you come back. Everyone knows it's just a way of keeping track of people, a way of controlling you and your family. As you step through the pillar onto the familiar platform, tightly clutching your brother's hand, you see the misery on the faces of the parents forced to say goodbye to their children.

Dumbledore is dead.

You've had a whole summer to get used to it, but you still can't quite believe it. You saw him buried, saw the white marble headstone, but it is still unbelievable. The look of numb shock on everyone else's faces tells you that they too cannot believe it.

This summer awful things have happened. Mysterious disappearances, murders, use of the unforgivables. Aurors and Ministry Officials have become a common sight.

The train is divided. It's not enforced, not official, but the Houses remain separate, and muggleborns stat away from the purebloods. To disobey these ubofficial rules is to inccur a thorough beating. It's quiet, everyone reflecting on what horrors await them.

* * *

><p><strong>Seventh Year<strong>

Finally. It feels as if aeons have passed since you were last here. The world has changed.

You climb aboard the train, wistfully remembering the first time you stepped aboard. Since then, a war has come and passed, people have died. The carriage is full of the laughter of friends who will never laugh again, their memories still rushing through the crowd.

The summer was spent rebuilding, piecing together the damaged world left after war. Now it is time to make a new life in this new world.

Sometimes it feels like a dream, and you will wake up any moment now and find yourself back in that compartment where you sat so long ago.

You never thought you'd be glad to be going back to school, but you realise that something as normal as homework is all that you need. Something to remind you that you're still a child, that the weight of the world should not rest on your shoulders.


	2. Fragments

Written for triwizard task 2

Um so this ended up being a lot deeper than I thought it would be and I've never been in this kind of situation so if this is awful or horribly offensive please tell me I would never want to trivialise mental health issues and I'm aware that this is a very sensitive topic.

Also, on a less emotional note, I've never (I think) written romione so if people hate it sorry

Word Count: 820 (ish)

* * *

><p>Through the fog that filled her mind Hermione heard the door open. She tried to scream, tried in vain to find her wand, even to use physical force against her attacker. She was overpowered, strong arms wrapped around her and she gave up the fight, slumping in his arms.<p>

"Shh. It's okay now, I've got you."

"Harry?"

He released her and she stood up shakily.

"Where am I?" She looked around at the sparsely furnished room.

"Where's Ron? Harry? Where's Ron? I want to see him."

Harry sighed as her tone became desperate.

"He's gone Hermione, remember?"

A searing pain shot through her head and the memories came. _Ron falling backwards, the grin frozen on his face. The cold, lifeless look in his eyes as she had kissed him, begged him not to be dead. The cruel eyes of Bellatrix Lestange behind him, her lips curling up into a sneer_. She shook her head, silently pleading with Harry to take the pain away, to tell her it was just a nightmare.

Harry sat down on the floor next to her and handed her a chocolate bar.

"Come on Hermione, you have to eat something."

She stared at it numbly, trying to prevent the inevitable pain. _Lupin laughing with them on the train, kind eyes smiling at them. Lupin, terrified and overjoyed when Teddy was born. Lupin, lying dead on the cold stone floor, hand still grasping Tonks'._

Harry gave her a small book. "Here. The healers thought it might help if you wrote down how you're feeling. I'll wait outside."

He stood up. "Bye Hermione."

She hardly even acknowledged that he had left. Instead she picked up the book and turned it over in her hands. It was nice, a pretty leather bound notebook, but ultimately it was useless. Nothing could help. She was adrift in a sea of pain and nothing could make it stop. Resentment and guilt tangles together in her mind, bubbling up like a volcano, always on the verge of spilling over. _Hadn't she lost enough? Couldn't they just leave her alone?_

She didn't know who she was anymore. Part of her was still trapped on that battlefield, even though at the same time it felt like it had happened to someone else. Surely it wasn't her who had watched Hogwarts be destroyed, had almost everyone she loved stolen from her?

She closed her eyes and let the memories consume her.

_It was dark. Her heart pounded as she crept through the abandoned hallways. The fight was still going on downstairs but upstairs it was quiet. Bellatrix's mocking laugh echoed maniacally and Hermione raced after it, fueled by rage. She didn't care anymore if she survived this battle, she had lost too much. Finally she ran into an empty room._

_Bellatrix lounged on a chair behind an overturned desk. She sneered at Hermione's tear streaked face, her blood stained clothes. Without pausing Hermione drew her wand._

_"Expelliarmus"_

_The wand shot out of Bellatrix's hand and the older witch looked in shock as Hermione snapped it in two. With a look of disgust she threw the broken wand across the room and Bellatrix screamed._

_For the first time a look of fear slipped into Bellatrix's vicious eyes. Hermione felt reckless and empty. She advanced slowly, wand out. As she realised that she had the power now she smiled._

_"Crucio"_

_Bellatrix screamed and writhed in pain. Hermione didn't care. She deserved it. Nothing could ever give her justice but at least this made her happy._

Surely it had been someone else that had watched the destruction of Bellatrix with such calculated cruelty? How could she have ever thought that causing pain would bring her happiness? Well now she had her punishment. Locked up in a hospital like she was an invalid because Harry couldn't trust her to leave.

Every day was the same. Every day she woke up thinking the war was still happening, that she still had a chance to save him. And every day her guilt and pain would come rushing back as she remembered. The feeling of selfishness, that even though she was one of the lucky ones, even though she was alive, she was drowning in self pity. Part of her knew it wasn't her fault, that none of the blame lies on her shoulders, but part of her wants to be punished. The pain caused by blaming herself takes away the pain of losing him. It takes away her victim status, stops her from feeling sorry for herself.

She knows it's wrong to be upset at everyone else, to blame them for being alive when he's dead, but she doesn't care anymore. All she has are these memories, these fragments of who she used to be.


	3. Dracula

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Triwizard Tournament (Task 3)

Prompt: Write about Vlad Drakul

Word Count: 850 (ish)

I'm sorry, I don't even know what happened here. It's a sassy misunderstood lonely Count Dracula.

P.S. For those of you who actually care about what I write I'm so sorry I haven't written anything for ages- my computer is broken and my phne is lost so I'm making do :/

* * *

><p>I'm so misunderstood.<p>

Honestly, stereotypical vampires are just that- stereotypes. We're not all sparkly blood lovers who go around ripping out people's throats. Sure, my son conformed to all those stereotypes (maybe not the sparkly thing) but there's a bad apple in every family tree.

I lived a solitary life, locked away in my fortress, happily living up to my reputation as the eccentric Count Drakul and hiding my fangs from the world. That is, until some idiot found out and wrote a book about me.

The book isn't even based off me, it's an account of my son's nasty habits but of course a Count makes a much better main character than his estranged son. Anyway, I wanted to get some things straight, so I figured I'd write this to let you know the real story. I apologise for the fact that it's not nearly as interesting as the legend that surrounds me.

I mean, I don't want you to think I'm boasting, but I have inspired a lot of talented people to write great things. I just wish it was for the stuff that deserves remembrance, and not for a load of rumours that aren't true. I spent years locked away in my secret laboratory, making incredible discoveries and trying to keep my secret concealed. The things I found out could alter the foundations of modern medicine but now no one will ever know. Since that stupid book was published I've lived the life of an outlaw, forging a new identity for myself. I never wanted to have children, I thought passing on this curse to my children would be more than I could bear and so I clothed myself in solitude. I didn't even know I had a son until he turned up on my doorstep a year later.

I always tried to hide what I was. I was only a boy when I was turned and I swiftly learnt to deal with my curse. I couldn't go out in the daylight and so I adapted my sleep patterns. I controlled the blood lust, hunting animals at night and refusing the urge to kill.

My son was always different. He didn't see the curse for what it is, he saw it instead as a gift. He was a half breed, half human an half monster and so he suffered the need for blood but with none of the restraints I faced. He was free to leave the house in the day so I could not control him and eventually the blood lust drove him to insanity.

He saw the things that set is apart from the humans; the fangs and pale skin, as blessings. He thought we were superior to them and that we had the right to hunt them. No matter how hard I tried to make him se what was right he was blind to all concepts of morality. He defied me and he stole hundreds of innocent lives.

He had to die. That's how I justify I to myself, even now. No one else could have done it, and even I feared that I was not strong enough. I couldn't let him destroy any more souls and so I had to stop him. We are monsters, and he was uncontrollable. And yet I ask myself- what kind of father could kill his own son?

No human could understand. They have strict codes of morality, family loyalty matters more than anything. When I was turned though, my family abandoned me. My sisters ran from me, too afraid to even look at my fanged face. Family was never a concept that held great meaning to me, and I suppose that I should never have tried to raise a child.

Perhaps I deserve my reputation. I didn't kill any I those humans it was claimed that I did, but I committed a far greater evil. I waited for my son to come home and I drove the stake through his heart.

He killed the woman I loved. The woman I sent away, because I was too afraid to be with her, too afraid that my curse would drive me to hurt her. I sent her away and didn't see her again until she left her son on my doorstep. He found her, years later, and I held her hand as the light in her eyes faded, blood staining my clothes. He blamed her for what he considered his 'weak side'. His occasional slips as his conscience wrestled with him were her fault, and he thought that if he destroyed her he would destroy that weakness.

I hope I see her again. Wherever it is that monsters go when they die I want to hold her one last time. I want to tell her how sorry I am


	4. Escape?

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Triwizard Tournament (Task 4) and Arithmancy: (Assignment 4)

Prompt: Harry/Hermione, 'The Sound of Your Voice' by .38 special (prompt by HP Slash Luv)

Prompt: Write about a leader

Word Count: 850 (ish)

P.S.- I've never written a fic based on a song before and I don't know the song well so apologies if I totally screwed this up, but this is how I interpreted the song and the lyrics were used as inspiration xx

* * *

><p>During the meeting Hermione watched him grow angrier and angrier. His was a cold fury, containable for now and unnoticeable to anyone who wasn't watching him as closely as she did. As Kingsley piled more and more responsibility on him, making it clear that the-boy-who-lived would shoulder the brunt of the patrols, his eyes flashed brighter and brighter, an explosion just waiting to happen.<p>

As soon as Kingsley had left he stormed out of the room. There was nowhere to go though and he ended up back in the tiny room that served as his living quarters.

"I can't do it anymore." He slammed his fist down onto the table.

His wand hand shot out and he sent a shelf of glassware shattering against the ground. Hermione flinched but knew there was nothing he could do while he was in this state.

His face was contorted into a harsh version of reality, stuck somewhere between anger and fear. It was an expression he had let no one but her see, and she would have been terrified if it was anyone else.

"Can't you see? If we leave now we'll be safe! I can protrct you! We can be together and-"

"And what, Harry? Leave the world to crumble around us? Let Voldemort destroy everything and everyone we love?"

"You're the only one I care about. I don't give a damn about the rest of them. We could do it. Just leave here together and never come back."

She wrapped her arms around him and stretched up to whisper in his ear, her breath tickling his cheek.

"You know that's not true. You're too good to leave them." As she spoke he began to relax, leaning into her embrace.

"Kingsley expects to much. I never asked to be the leader. I never asked for any of this. I don't want this war. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I just gave up."

"Hush. You'll feel better after a rest. You know everyone here depends on you. You're strong enough Harry, I know you are."

They sat together in silence for a moment, arns wrapped around each other, before Harry spoke.

"Hermione." He breathed her name quietly, his voice laced with desperate need.

She recognised his tone and turned to him eagerly. Over the past few weeks she had grown used to these snatched moments. They never knew when they would have time alone and so each time was a burst of passion, two souls entwining in the middle of a war. No one else knew about them and they were both sure that no one else would approve. They were both supposed to settle down with a Weasley after the war was won and make the whole Order happy. She and Ron were never going to work out though, and Harry and Ginny's relationship was doomed from almost the very beginning. So she and Harry had turned to each other for comfort and slowly their relationship had moved from platonic to deeply passionate.

She pressed herself against him running her hands across his shoulders and through his hair. He brought their lips together with an intense passion.

"Harry." She gasped his name as he ran his hands over her. Everywhere he touched her a fiery warmth tore at her. She was consumed by a desperate need, somehow still feeling as new and exciting as it had the first time they had found each other.

They came together with a swift urgency, conscious that the others would return soon. Afterwards they lay together, bodies still entwined. Hermione ran her hands through Harry's hair while he frowned distractedly.

"I meant what I said earlier. The Order doesn't need me to lead them. Most of them are far older and more experienced than me."

She sighed. "Harry they do need you here. People need to see you, they need to know that you believe we can win. That's maybe the most important thing right now."

"Great. So I'm like the team mascot. Totally useless except as a decoration."

"You know you do a lot more than that. We all rely on you."

He frowned again, thinking through what she had said. She knew he would pull himself together in a minute, that he would be ready to deal with the stress again. She knew he would leave her again and it hurt, knowing that she had to convince him to go, had to convince him to leave her. Of course it would be easier to give up, to leave and never come back, but she couldn't take Harry away from the war.

Finally he sighed and sat up. "I have to leave again tomorrow. There's been a sighting and Kingsley wants me to check it out and I won't see you for ages and-

"Sh." She kissed him softly and he smiled. "Don't worry about that now. We're together now, and that's all that matters


	5. Fate

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignment): Triwizard Tournament 5

(See below for explanation of prompts)

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Ancient Runes

Prompt: Write about Hermione Granger

Word Count: 1,545 (ish)

* * *

><p><strong>Hermione<strong>

After the war Ron and I moved in together. Everyone assumed that we would, and so we did. We fell into the roles of 'companions to the saviour of the world' and for a long time that was enough for both of us. Once Harry and Ron had rounded up the last of the Death Eaters and I had helped Kingsley restore the Ministry we were done. There was no need for us to ever work again. We were retired before the age of twenty.

Of course, that wasn't enough for me, so I stayed on at the Ministry. I worked hard there, but I always came home at the end of the day happy and satisfied.

Ron and I acted out our 'happily-ever-after' for almost four years. We never married though, a fact which continually seemed to disappoint everyone but me. There were always reasons why it was a bad time-we were too young, we didn't want to atract media attention, I wanted to complete my training first. Eventually we found our rut and we settled into it.

Ron wanted to become a professional Quidditch player but he didn't have the drive. I think it always irritated him that I was the one who earned the money, that I spent the day working and not at his beck and call.

After a couple of years the ministry job stopped being fulfilling. I realised that my career wasn't going anywhere and that I began to realise how ineffective and in some ways, corrupted, the ministry was.

I switched career paths, deciding to train as a healer in hopes that the job would be more fulfilling. My training was rigorous- hours of practice spells during the day and studying in the evening. When I completed my training I worked as many shifts as I could, meaning I was often catching up on sleep when Ron wanted to go out. We hardly spoke to each other and never went anywhere as a couple.

* * *

><p><strong>Ron<strong>

When Hermione agreed to move in with me I thought that all of my dreams had come true. I didn't realise that she would hold back on so much in our relationship, that eventually our rush to be together would drive us apart.

I know that what I did was unacceptable. I know it was dishonorable and that Hermione deserved better. I just didn't want to disappoint everyone. Mum was so proud of us that I couldn't let her down, I couldn't leave Hermione. But after she got the job as a healer I felt... inferior. She was hardly around, I felt like she didn't have time for me anymore, that I was holding her back.

I decided I needed a job, that it wasn't too late for me to make it as a quidditch pro. I tried out for all the big teams, and I even qualified a few times, but I never kept it up. I was lazy and unambitious. Every time I got close I slipped, gave up on my dream.

Lavender made me feel good about myself. She thought i was great and I needed the ego boost. It was so easy to just forget about Hermione when it was Lavender's lips crushing mine, Lavender's arms around me, Lavender's eyes that promised me everything I couldn't have.

* * *

><p><strong>Draco<strong>

For a long time I thought it would be better if I were dead. I knew it would have been better if I had never been born, but eventually I realised that being dead wouldn't help anything. If my life could be used to repair even a fraction of the damage I had caused it would be worth the suffering.

I went through a time where I changed my life around. I picked myself up and stopped thinking of myself as a criminal. I was filled with the idea that helping people would be my salvation, that I could do something for the greater good, contribute towards happiness and the end of suffering.

I sold Malfoy Manor and used most of my inheritance to help rebuild Hogwarts and the Ministry. I was adamant that my help be anonymous, something which annoyed my mother but which I am sure was the right thing to do.

Even that wasn't enough. I had almost a lifetime of sins to repair and my fortune could not begin to repay that debt. I trained as a healer, believing that if I could heal others, some small part of my soul could be healed too. At first the job felt more like a chore but it didn't take me long to realise that it was where I belonged.

* * *

><p><strong>Hermione<strong>

When I started working at St Mungo's the nightmares returned. I would wake up in Hogwarts again, watching my friends die before me. Being constantly surrounded by hurt and dying people brought back memories that I had spent years repressing.

During that time I tried to hide it from Ron. I suppose I didn't want him to see my weakness. I needed to be a rock, and my secret was that every night I turned into sand.

I started working later and later, staying at the hospital overnight to keep my secret safe. I slept in the on call rooms (barely necessary in a wizarding hospital but there nonetheless).

I think, in the first year I worked at St Mungo's only two people found out that I didn't go home at night. The first was my ward manager, who assumed I simply loved the job and couldn't bear to leave before I had completed every last piece of paperwork, and the other was Draco Malfoy.

Draco started working at St Mungo's around the same time I did. Initially we stayed well clear of each other. I knew he had changed but I wasn't sure if I could talk to him without punching him, screaming, or crying. When he found me one night, lost once again in my nightly torment he coaxed me awake and refused to leave.

After that I could trust him to wake me up whenever they got too bad. He was always there and I came to rely on him in a way I couldn't rely on anyone else. I never felt guilty when I was with him, we were just friends, but his company was relaxing in a way Ron wasn't.

* * *

><p><strong>Draco<strong>

I was the first person she came to when she found out. Looking back, I suppose it was impressive that she managed to apparate to my flat, a location she had visited only once before, in the state she was in. Through her sobbing I managed to work out that she had caught Weaselbee in a rather compromising position with some girl from school. My first instinct was to apparate to hers and give him the broken nose he deserved but fortunately I calmed down enough to realise that that would probably not help matters.

I let her cry, and when she was done crying I stopped her from going to kill Weaselbee in a fit of rage. (Not that I was against the actual killing of the man but because I preferred that she didn't get locked away in Azkaban.) I made her hot chocolate, set her up on the bed in the spare room, and sat beside her until she eventually drifted off to sleep.

During the time that came after her discovery I looked after her. I made sure she ate three meals a day, kept her updated with what was going on at work and tried to convince her to see her old friends. I couldn't bear to see her devastated, forlorn figure greet me sadly every morning and I suppose I simply bullied her into recovery.

* * *

><p><strong>Hermione<strong>

After I got over my anger I started to feel stupid, as though he had humiliated me. I couldn't bear to see Harry or Ginny or any of the Weasley family. I hardly left the house, terrified the journalists would be waiting to capture my shame. In some twisted corner of my brain I thought that perhaps they had all known all along, that the whole time they had been laughing at me.

Finally, Draco convinced me to see them, just a few at a time. I realised that while I had been isolating myself they had all been showing Ron exactly what they thought of his decisions. Their love helped me as much as Draco's did, and now I realise that Ron and I were never a perfect fit, and that we are both happier now.

I thought I would hate him and be glad that his family had driven him away but I found that I didn't have it in me to simply curse him to the lonely life he deserved. I urged Molly to accept both him and Lavender, and although I am sure we will never have the friendship we used to have back, I wish him the very best and know that he feels the same way towards me.

* * *

><p><span><strong>Explanation of Prompts:<strong>

Fear due to past experiences, Secrets brought to light

(Nightmares) (Affair)

Reflection, Epiphany, Fulfilling life, Take action

(Post-War Draco)

Skipping steps to achieve goal, Time you lose focus

(Ron- applying for Quidditch teams)

Negativity overwhelming, Disillusionment in work/relationship etc

(Hermione's change of career)

Balance and Tranquility

(Ending)


	6. Happy Anniversary

Disclaimer I don't own Harry Potter

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Triwizard Tournament (Task 6)

Prompts: TOP SECRET (Like seriously. I might have to kill you if I revealed them. Or someone else might kill me. Who knows? Don't you just love a nice little murder mystery? Sorry probably most of you have no idea what I'm rambling on about)

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments): Transfiguration (Assignment 6)

Prompts: Write a first person fic where someone uses the Orchideus Charm.

Word Count: 1,133 (ish)

* * *

><p>James woke me up early in the morning of our first anniversary with a smile and a mug of hot chocolate. It was a nice change, as usually he sleeps until late morning and I have to shake him awake.<p>

He gave me a kiss and then he took out his wand. He used a spell I'd never seen before- _Orchideus- _and a bouquet of flowers appeared to sprout from the end of his wand. I let him cook me breakfast while I found a vase for the flowers. As soon as breakfast was over, it was my turn to surprise him.

* * *

><p>"Are we nearly there yet?" James, childish as ever, was complaining again as he dragged himself up the large hill that I was making him climb. I did tell him that the fresh air would be good for him, but all he really wanted to do was sit down and begin our picnic. He stopped and took a long gulp of water from the water bottle that I had thrown at him as we were leaving the house.<p>

"Come on slow coach!" I poked him and laughed as I danced ahead. It served him right for complaining so much

"Well maybe if you hadn't made me carry all the bags..." He grinned to show he was joking and picked his pace up a little. I felt a little guilty but oh well...

"Fine. This will do." I pointed at a large flat space, sheltered slightly by the large trees that stood firmly rooted to the side of the mountain. It was the perfect place for a peaceful picnic.

"Now will you tell me what you wanted to show me?"

"Nope." I started to lay out the picnic blanket and frowned at James. "You go away and amuse yourself for ten minutes."

"Lily" He sighed in mock exasperation. "Very well. I shall go and be bored without your wonderful company while you probably eat all of the food. This surprise had better be worth it!"

I made shooing motions at him and waited until he was completely out of sight before turning to one of the large bags we had brought with us. I looked round furtively, still worried that he might try to peek.

Rummaging through it I began to remove various items, piling them neatly around the blanket. I withdrew a tall red pillar candle and a knife, a quaffle and a bottle of firewhiskey, a shred of fabric and a chocolate frog box. The strange assortment of things grew as I continued adding to the seemingly random collection. A stranger would have seen nothing of consequence but I knew better.

* * *

><p>"Lily? It's been fifteen minutes. I'm coming whether you're ready or not!" James looked pointedly at his watch and strolled back towards the picnic site.<p>

"Lily?"

I was sitting in the middle of the rug, surrounded by everything I had collected. I had also laid out the food, and was now concentrating on trying to create a centrepiece of flowers using the spell James had used earlier.

"How do you do it?"

"What? I have no idea what you are talking about."

"The flowers!"

"Ah." He knelt down next to me and slowly repeated the incantation and wand motion, this time producing just a single lily flower. He tucked it behind my ear and smiled.

I copied his motion exactly and held my breath while a gorgeous bunch of flowers bloomed from my wand.

"Ta dah!"

"Well done. Now, what was the surprise?"

I gestured proudly around me and James sat down beside me, a puzzled expression on his face.

"Um- this is great Lily but what exactly is it?"

I looked momentarily crestfallen and then brightened up.

"It's a collection of everything that marks a milestone in our relationship. I thought that it would be nice to look back on our story, on our first wedding anniversary."

I had been worried that it would be a bit sappy but he seemed to appreciate it.

"What's this then?" He picked up a quaffle and tossed it to me.

"The quaffle from the first quidditch game I watched."

James frowned slightly, unsure of what that had to do with anything. Seeing his confusion, I continued speaking.

"Marlene had convinced me that I couldn't possibly stay inside studying while my boyfriend was on the team, playing Slytherin in the 'most exciting game ever'.

He looked at me in shock. "You had never been to a quidditch game before fifth year!?"

I laughed at his over the top reaction. "Nope."

"Okay then, what's this?" James pointed to a large, oddly shaped lump of wool.

"Oh. Um- that was my first attempt to make a Christmas present for you. It's supposed to be a hat."

After several attempts at trying to balance it on his head, keeping me in fits of laughter, he gave up and picked up the next object.

"A copy of 'Hogwarts A History'. Seriously Lils?"

"That kind of goes with this."

I rummaged through the pile, discarding a scrap of material, a deck of cards, and a slightly burnt piece of parchment. Finally I looked up triumphantly, brandishing a small bottle of sparkly nail polish.

"You must remember this one?"

"Ah yes. This was the time you brutally knocked me unconscious, turned me into one of those sparkly muggle vampires you like watching and then got yourself in such a state when I wouldn't wake up."

"Well, if you hadn't spilled nail polish all over my book I wouldn't have hit you with it! And anyway you liked Twilight as much as I did!" I scowled defensively at him and James laughed, wrapping an arm around me.

"What's next?"

* * *

><p>Hours later, after the sun had gone down and I had snuggled closely into James we lay back and watched the stars. Just as I was falling asleep, James finally remembered the present that he had bought for me.<p>

"Lily? I've got something for you." I looked up immediately, making James laugh as I showed a childish eagerness.

He gave me the little package and watched as I delightedly began ripping the paper open. I suppose I do get a little overexcited about presents. James always joked that I would be happy if he simply gave me an empty box and wrapped it in layers of paper and to be honest he's probably right.

There was a glint of silver as something fell out into my lap and then I gasped in pleasure and threw my arms around James.

"It's beautiful! I love it! Thank you so much."

"Open it up." He showed me the intricate clasp and I opened the silver locket. Inside, pictures of me and James waved back. Overcome with happiness I was speechless as James fastened it around my neck.

"Happy Anniversary Lily"


	7. Nothing

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

The first half of this (Up to the line break) was written by Ella (Slytherin Is My Family)

Written for Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry (Challenges & Assignments) Triwizard Tournament (Task 7)

Word Count (Ella): 415

Word Count (Livia): 790 (ish)

* * *

><p>The rain fell fast and furious like the sky was sad and angry at the same time, maybe it was. He wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come he was so torn up inside that he couldn't cry about it.<p>

Colin was his big brother, his best friend and now he was dead. It wasn't fair or right, what had his brother ever done that was so bad the universe wanted him dead?.

Nothing, he had done nothing that what made everything so unbearable about death. Colin had never been selfish, he had always been a good big brother and friend.

At first he blamed Harry for it because it was Colin's faith in him that led him to fight, but then he realised Harry never wanted a war, never wanted people to lay down there lives.

No, Harry was just another poor soul dealt with a real bad hand in life and had no choice but to fight to save others like his brother did.

Once he could no longer blame Harry Potter he needed a new source to blame and the obvious one was Voldemort and his Death Eaters.

And he did blame them and he hated them with something that was pure darkness that he had never known before, but the person he blamed more than anyone was Albus Dumbledore.

Why hadn't he stopped Voldemort while Voldemort was at school?, he supposedly knew everything about everyone or at least thats what people always said so the questions remains why hadn't he stopped him?.

Was one life taken to save so many innocent people a bad thing?.

Good people who just wanted to live without the fear of being killed by mad men and wanted to take of their families.

If Dennis could go back to when Voldemort was still a teenager before he'd started creating Horcruxs then he'd kill him without any hesitation.

He'd never thought he was cable of wanting to kill someone until Colin died then it was like all there was rage and sadness.

He didn't know if those feelings would ever go away and wasn't exactly sure if he wanted those feelings to go away.

If they went away what would be left?

Just an empty shell scrambling to get through the days like so many other grieving families and friends who'd lost people in the war.

Only recently he'd seen George Weasley and shocked him how little of the person he'd seen at Hogwarts was left.

* * *

><p>George was like him, alone, left behind. They were both shattered souls, remnants of a war that had been won but had left them both with such high personal losses. They were the same, but not the same. George might have lost tthe person he was closest to but he still had a family around him to support him. What did he have? A milkman for a father and a mother who loved him but was in complete denial about the magical world.<p>

While George's family seemed stronger, bonded together by their losses, his family had fractured. He knew that the Weasley's never left George alone, that they comforted him in his grieving and held him close to them. His family was in pieces. Voldemort hadn't only taken his brother, it had taken his parents as well. They were broken, their minds ruined by the loss of their son. Without even knowing who they were Voldemort had taken their most precious thing from them and as a result they were lost.

The last time he had seen his parents they had refused to admit Colin was dead. They had lied to him, pretended like children that he was fine, that he was away at boarding school and too busy to come home. They could hardly bear to see him, a reminder that Colin should be home and so he had left, abandoning the home that was filled with memories of Colin.

After visiting his parents he didn't go back to school immediately. After all, what good had school done for Colin? In the end, everything he had learned hadn't saved his life. Instead, he wanted to help. Perhaps if Colin had let him help he could have saved him. He could have jumped in front of the wand that killed Colin.

No, he didn't go back to school. He went off by himself, intent on destroying every last Death Eater. Of course, it didn't take long for him to be found and sent back to school and he hated them all the more, the school that refused to let him avenge his brother's death.

He figured they couldn't keep him at Hogwarts if he didn't want it so he ran away. Again and again he left the school and again and again he was hauled back by some good for nothing prefect and sat down in front of Professor McGonagall and forced to explain himself when all he wanted to do was scream and cry.

That was where he was going now. Yet another meeting with the new headmistress of Hogwarts. He didn't understand why she wouldn't just give up like everyone else, why she insisted on drawing out the painful torture of the long meetings. Inevitably he always scuffled off afterwards, just as desperate to get away as before.

"Dennis." She motioned for him to sit down and he went along with it... for now.

"Do you know, I taught Colin Creevey for five years, and in all that time he missed my class once. He was sufferingthe nasty effects of a blister bubble spillage and was confined to the hospital wing.

He tapped his foot impatiently wondering where she was going with this. Normally she just gave him a lecture and booted him out.

"Do you think he would be happy with what you're doing? If I'm honest, I think he'd be just a little bit disappointed."

How dare she? She didn't know anything, she had no right to say something like that. Colin would be proud of him,proud of him for trying to help and if Colin wasn't, well that was just because Colin always tried unnecessarily hard to protect him.

"My brother was a fighter and he'd be proud that I'm like him." He stuck his chin out defiantly.

She looked at him with pity and he lashed out at her. He swept an arm across her desk, sending papers scattering through the air. Fragile ornaments tumbled to the ground and shattered. It wwasn't enough. He needed to show herhis pain, needed uher to know how he felt. He knocked over his chair and sent it crashing into a cupboard. He couldn't make it hurt enough. Colin was more precious than anything she had.

He felt her reach out for him, felt her old hand firmly grip his shoulder and it was as if all the energy had drained out of him. He sunk to the floor, sobbing into the soft fabric of her robes while her arms held him tightly.


End file.
